. . . because you're not working on a cure. . .

The Entertainment Industry

One of the perks of going off to cubicle land M-F is that you get to interact with and observe some of the most bizarre specimens that humanity has to offer. I always wonder, if they’re this nuts at work, what are they like outside of the office?

Case in point–I had a coworker who, despite being born and raised in California, chose to speak with an affected Chinese accent. She would wear a knit woolen ski cap inside the office, and, after losing a good bit of weight, used a rope to secure her pants around her waist, rather than purchasing clothing that actually fit. She also would tell you that the leather pouch she wore around her neck contained the cremated remains of her dog. Another colleague remarked that he was a volunteer for a mental health crisis center, but that this woman was crazier than anything he’d ever seen there.

Then there was the guy whose real name is Andre GermanSoundingSurname. Apparently “Andre” was deemed too difficult for him to work with, so he employed a nom de plume for using with clients. In email and on his VM, he was “Bob Clarke.” But everyone in the office called him Andre. He also would visit Colombia a few times a year, and purchased an apartment in Bogota. I speculate that any of the following could be the case: 1) running coke; 2) joined an expat Nazi community; 3) sex with underage girls/production of child pornography.

And then, there was the batshit crazy broad who hoarded a menagerie of rodents in her cubicle. Gecko. Guinea pig. Mice. The gecko ate live crickets, which you can apparently order and have shipped in bulk to your workplace. I know this because one weekend, the crickets got out, and Monday morning there was a plague upon us. When she would be out on PTO, someone else would have to feed/water her rodents for her. But what’s most bizarre is that this was a multi-billion dollar multi-national company. Management knew about the pets in the cubicle, but did nothing. I violated my own rule of never talking to HR by telling HR how fucked up this was. Nothing happened, which of course confirmed that talking to HR is totally useless.